


California Nights

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Wheeler Dealers RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, Seduction, Sex in a Car, Touching, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 23:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18509239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: He could feel the grooves of the vehicle's gnarled, rusted bed, wedged into his back. The bare metal was as cold as a Budweiser straight from the fridge, almost burning Mike's arms, making them feel numb. It was seriously uncomfortable - practically painful, actually, for his sore elbows. But he'd never had sex wearing his fur-hooded Parka coat - not even back in the UK - so he certainly wasn't going to make a habit of it here on the sunny Western US coast, where the nights were often more than scorching.Tonight, it may have been much cool outdoors temperature-wise, but it was all set to become a lot hotter in other ways, and didn't they just know it--An unexpected kiss whilst watching the sunset at Twin Peaks in California, following the test drive of the 'rat look' Ford F1 pick-up, ends up with the pair of them on the bed of the truck, making love in the rust and the grime. Well, when you need a bed - any old bed will do!





	California Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

He could feel the grooves of the vehicle's gnarled, rusted bed, wedged into his back. The bare metal was as cold as a Budweiser straight from the fridge, almost burning Mike's arms, making them feel numb. It was seriously uncomfortable - practically painful, actually, for his sore elbows. But he'd never had sex wearing his fur-hooded Parka coat - not even back in the UK - so he certainly wasn't going to make a habit of it here on the sunny Western US coast, where the nights were often more than scorching.

Tonight, it may have been much cool outdoors temperature-wise, but it was all set to become a lot hotter in _other_ ways, and didn't they just know it. Their Ford F1 pick-up juddered slightly as the tall, possibly _too_ large to fit in the space in question, mechanic clambered aboard to join him; the rest of the rat-rod cruise had long since moved on from this area, leaving the pair of them alone to enjoy each other's company and the stunning landscape in peace.

The sweet side of Edd showed as he began to wrap his lover in a blanket, the Mexican-style throw he'd considered using to upholster their seats - in the end, he'd found a _much_ better use for it in keeping the pair of them warm this evening; the saucy side of Edd emerged soon afterwards, as he undressed them both as hurriedly and competently as he could, managing to rag his own jumper over his head, undo the bottom four buttons of Mike's shirt, and pop the studs on both of their trousers.

Brewer could feel China's hardness long before his boxers came down, pressing into his thigh; he grasped it and squeezed, craving his reaction. And, as he lay there, in the back of their beaten-up teal-coloured truck, staring at the stars as they started to sprout out of the sky, his buddy's mouth on any exposed part of him it could find, desperate to devour him, and a hand around his arousal - he felt his mind swirl as he tried to make sense of it all.

As Edd had explained earlier to viewers during the restoration of this wonderful piece of 1950's Americana, in referencing the 'rat look' they were trying to achieve in this episode - "There are no rules. If it looks right and feels right, then it _is_ right." And the same sentence definitely could not have been truer regarding what had happened _following_ that restoration, on their test drive, just outside of L.A.

The pair of them had gone from merely sitting closely, to then snuggling together in the cab of their own 'rat look' Ford, with Edd eventually going on to _kiss_ his pal - hungrily on the lips - taking Mike by surprise, making him feel all light-headed and out of sorts. Yes, they were perched up on high - looking out onto this fantastic scenery - but the car salesman felt sure that vertigo had nothing to do with it, and Edd had _everything_ to do with it.

Who would have thought that, after all of these years of being on-screen partners, watching the romantic sunset at Twin Peaks would have been the thing to tip them over _that_ edge? That _was_ \- the edge between friends and lovers - what had been a thin and ever-growing thinner edge with each passing day. All this talk of edges and falling - and now this bloody possibility of _falling_ for each other - had Mike gripping on for dear life, fists firmly wrapped into his partner's t-shirt. He _realised_ \- it felt _absolutely_ right.

China pulled away, a smile forming on his lips which could be felt by the other man as they gently parted. "Fucking hell," he chuckled. "How did that happen?"

"Don't you say that like you don't know," he turned his head to say.

"I don't know what you mean," there was smirk - those same smirking lips now moving towards the open collar of Mike's shirt, stealing a kiss below his ear and producing a blush around where his lips had met with skin.

"All of _this_ business," Brewer mimicked him, jokingly, pretending to yawn and outstretch his arm - just like his co-host had done only moments before - like a teenage boyfriend trying to wrap an arm around his girl's shoulders at the pictures.

Only, they were thirty years too old to be trying those sorts of tricks, he thought with some amusement - and yet here it was, _working_ on him. Having said that, he always did feel at his most _youthful_ and vibrant when out on the road with Edd, putting the pedal to the metal and giving their restored cars a bit of a thrashing - even if it did sometimes make his mechanic wince after all the hard work he had put into them; he felt giddy and, well, gay was probably too stronger word at this stage of proceedings, but he felt - under the present circumstances - he'd have to _go_ with that for now - at the thought of being seduced in such a way at his age.

"Years of longing," Edd said, giving him a smouldering stare and trying to be sexy, but failing halfway through and starting to laugh, "The romantic view... the California sun going to my head, maybe... me being overcome by the exhaust fumes from an old, knackered pick-up..." What he _didn't_ say was: "The feeling in the pit of my stomach every time you smile at me in a certain way... the fact I shouldn't be thinking such things about you when you _aren't_ mine... the fear that I'll accidentally go on to kiss you or something and _ruin everything_ \-- oh."

Soon they were both giggling at each other. They had no idea _why_ , really - I mean, this actually was kind of bizarre. But - they both supposed that when they looked into it, it actually _wasn't_ ; the signs had been there all along, pretty much from the beginning - when Mike thought about how gorgeous, shy and boyish Edd had been in those early days of filming - and Edd thought about how cheeky and cute he'd found Mike from the off and some of the stuff he did, which most people might have found annoying, bounced off Edd like water off a duck's back, and he'd come to find it downright adorable in the end. And it would never change. Even if he did sometimes feel like cracking him over the head with a _spanner_ from his toolkit.

"Years of longing," Mike repeated, knowing - upon reflection - that the feeling was shared. As too was the _latter_ part of that - he'd also felt like wielding said aforementioned _spanner_ when Edd was complaining about the amount of work he'd had to do to the various projects he'd brought him, as Mike ferried him countless mugs of tea and chocolate biscuits, all the while listening to him chunter about this and that oil leak, smoke from the exhaust, faulty binnacle, dented bodywork, etcetera - christ, that boy _did_ like to go on.

So - changing the whole chassis on a Morgan - for example - was no ordinary job, granted; it was an _extraordinary_ one. But then Edd was quite an _extraordinary_ guy. He could hardly hold back the grin from spreading across his face at the thought of it; _his_ extraordinary guy, he duly noted, with relish - pulling him closer for another _extraordinary_ kiss.

"God, you're _such_ a filthy love monster," came the accusation and Brewer snorted in response. China was pushing him down now onto the bespoke cow-hide seats that he, himself - a man of many talents, including hand-stitching car interiors now - had made with his own fair hands, orange-glove-clad, as _always_.

And Mike could feel the harsh, yet softness of the animal pelt beneath him, the nap of the material ruched between his fingers, and - ironically - similar sensations to his upper half: feather-light sucking of the flesh and tiny kisses interspersed with the oddly sensual roughness of stubble, the jarring of Edd's whiskers rubbing against him - what with him having shaved first thing this morning, over twelve hours ago... making Mike weak and helpless in a way he never imagined that it would - in a way that would have frightened him silly had he _ever_ truly known how much he'd wanted it.

"It's beautiful," Edd gasped, breaking away, breaking eye contact only for a moment or so, to peer out over the top of the dashboard. The sun was a fiery ball of amber, low in the purplish sky.

"The sunset?" he asked, running a tongue over his lips, savouring the taste of it all.

"You name it - the sunset... the view... _You_ , of course," Edd grinned.

"Of course." _Naturally_. Edd must have been welding without the goggles on again, sending him temporarily blind, Mike had to wonder. How lucky he was that Edd did not see him the way he saw _himself_.

"This rat-rod too," he added. "Can't believe how well this turned out."

"You've done an amazing job, Edd. It's _triffic_."

And they both knew, with much regret, that it was too amazing of a job to ruin now with their shenanigans. Mike tried to smooth down the tufts sticking up from the chair cover, splayed in every direction, with his left hand, seeing how they had already ruffled up the expensive cow-hide fabric on the bench seat they were sitting and, unexpectedly, fumbling on.

"We could..." he chanced, "...try to find an 'otel, maybe. Or sammin." Mike became quieter with every word; he really couldn't believe that this was something he was discussing with Edd, but he'd be _damned_ if he was losing this moment - he'd only waited the best part of fifteen years for it to happen, and he didn't even _know_ he'd been waiting. "I know it's kinda risky, mate," he added.

It _was_ risky on _every_ level. Besides the obvious problem of possibly being recognised - if _they_ weren't clocked, the car _would_ be - it was just about the most unique car one could hope to own, and easier to spot them in than if they had a personalised number-plate. Not only that, but the danger of their renovated pick-up being stolen or damaged was something he didn't want to tempt. How on earth could they ever have explained to the production company that the car was stolen from outside some motel, whilst they were shacked up, doing this and that to what and whom?

"Oh, _Michael_ ..." the younger man purred, tugging semi-aggressively at Mike's shirt. "It's not that I don't love the _idea_ of it--"

"--Steady. It's 'ard finding them in my size."

"Oh, shut up," he countered, as if to say, 'Putting yourself down isn't sexy, you know - Mike,' before silencing him with a snog. And it did occur to him that perhaps the _only_ time he had _ever_ managed to shut the motormouth up was right now, with this - a tongue in his mouth, flicking against his - and his hands sliding ever further up and along his thighs.

And, true, they may have been thirty years too old for it, but right now Edd was young again - with this sparking memories of the past and make-out sessions in the backs of old 80's runabouts - and he just felt so _alive_ all of a sudden; no - Mike was right - this couldn't end here - they were both in dire need of this. And so he pulled back, softly, and seductively growled into his ear, "I did have _another_ idea." He received a baffled expression and, in response, continued to explain. "You _do_ know they call the back of this truck the 'bed'," he hissed.

With fantasies of what was to come in-mind - the many textures under their fingers, the many surfaces - from flaking paint and rusted panels, rivets and notches of what was beneath them - to denim, pulled down - cotton shirts, nearly ripped - and bare skin, thoroughly savoured - they simply _couldn't_ wait now. And car doors were soon opened, and slammed. Because it may have been a chilly California night but, undoubtedly, the heat of it had gradually gotten to them - and California nights would _never_ be the same again after this. And an invitation to bed would _forever_ mean something else _entirely_.


End file.
